A Touch of Magic

by Isabelle Adler

  “I don’t have anything on me,” he said, regretting for the first time that he wasn’t in the habit of keeping condoms and lube in the pocket of his costume trousers.

  “Me neither,” Ty said. He shifted, pulling slightly away, but Cary could feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint. The hell with it, he thought, there were other things they could do. No way this was going to end in them taking turns jerking off in the shower.

  “I want to suck you,” he suggested.

  Ty barked a laugh. “Won’t say no to that.”

  It was all the encouragement he needed. Cary dove in straight for the prize, taking it deep into his mouth, putting his lips and tongue to good use. Ty moaned and gripped his hair almost painfully, but eased the hold when Cary made a noise around his cock. That was okay. They were finding the right pace, the things they would both enjoy. Cary worked his mouth, and Ty made tiny thrusting motions, his hips barely lifting in an effort not to fuck his mouth, something Cary actually wouldn’t have minded. Still, he appreciated the consideration. He was kind of surprised Ty wasn’t more selfish in bed, all things considered, but it made him want to do that much better.

  Cary paused for a moment, letting Ty’s cock out of his mouth with a long lick, ignoring his groan of protest. He wet his fingers and pushed gently against the tiny hole even as he bore down again, sucking with renewed effort. Not all guys liked that, but Ty seemed to be entirely on board with the idea, as he swore softly under his breath and thrust harder, pushing up into Cary’s mouth and then impaling himself on his finger.

  If Cary wasn’t so damned horny, he would have tried to prolong it. He liked the little sounds Ty made, the feel of hard muscle under flushed skin. But he was too on edge to draw it out. He was thrumming with nervous energy that clamored for release—so different from his earlier fatigue it seemed unnatural. Perhaps Ty was right about it being a side effect of withdrawal or something, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. He sucked hard and twisted his finger viciously at the same time. Ty’s fingers tightened in his hair, and he came with a restrained grunt.

  Cary pulled away just in time to get spatter on his chest, but being covered in Ty’s come did nothing to dim his arousal. He was so hard he was about to burst, and almost whimpered with impatience.

  “C’mere,” Ty whispered and pulled him upward. The traces of his release smeared between their bodies, mingling with sweat. Ty was still breathing heavily, his body now slack with satiation, his skin deliciously warm. But apparently, he was determined to make sure Cary had a turn, because he palmed his erection and gave it an encouraging tug. “What do you want?”

  Cary didn’t care how Ty was going to get him off, so long as he did. He ground against Ty’s hand in lieu of a coherent answer, with tiny frantic thrusts, desperate for more friction that would send him right off that excruciating edge. Thankfully, Ty seemed to get the gist, because his grip tightened, one hand pumping Cary’s cock and the other squeezing his ass. It was messy and graceless, with them moving out of sync, their bodies bumping awkwardly at first. But after a few frustrating moments they fell into a sort of a frenzied rhythm, a purposeful race to the finish. Cary buried his face in Ty’s shoulder, the scent of him—damp earth mixed with musk and cigarette smoke—filling his nostrils. For a second, he imagined himself fucking Ty in earnest, pushing into that tight heat he’d only gotten to explore with his finger, and the thought sent him flying. Waves of pure rapture washed over him, drenching him in sweetness as he spurted all over Ty’s hand and into the tight space between their bodies.

  For a few moments, Cary lay there, his heartbeat in time with Ty’s as it gradually slowed. He felt boneless, drained of whatever jittery mood that had overcome him. All he wanted was to draw the duvet over the both of them and sleep for a week in the comfortable warmth, but unfortunately, that wasn’t how things worked. Cary rolled over to his side of the bed with a supreme effort. He really should get up and get cleaned, he thought, closing his eyes. At the very least he should make sure Ty had as much of a good time as he had. But he just couldn’t summon the energy. The last thing he remembered was Ty shifting on the bed next to him, and the touch of a blanket on his bare skin.

  Chapter Six

  TY WOKE UP early, as usual. The room was dark, but the grayish light of dawn was beginning to dispel the lingering shadows. He could hear the noise of the traffic picking up volume outside, the sounds of a large city waking up. For a few moments, he lay there, listening. He wasn’t keen on large cities in general, but they had their advantages when he needed to melt into the crowd.

  He sat up quietly, wincing at the spike of pain behind his eyes. That was one experience he was hoping never to have again. Sure, it wasn’t as bad as being stabbed or shot, but the risk of getting his skull crushed came pretty damn close. He checked the nightstand for his gun and then looked at Cary’s prostrate form. He’d kicked off the covers at some point during the night, despite the air conditioner that labored noisily in the far corner, and was sporting some impressive morning wood. Ty briefly considered doing something about it, but they couldn’t dawdle. Besides, sometimes what happened in the dark, in the heat of the moment, was less welcome in the light of day.

  He got up and headed to the bathroom for a piss and a quick shower. This kind of felt like the morning after a one-night stand, but as fun as the little interlude had been, they had more important things to focus on right now.

  “Hey,” he said in a low voice after coming back and pulling his jeans on, nudging Cary’s flank for emphasis. “Rise and shine, Houdini.”

  “Ngh,” Cary said and opened his eyes. They looked a little on the puffy side, but other than that, he looked much better. He sat up and yawned, pulling up the sheet to cover his lap. The memories of last night were slowly returning to him, if his expression was anything to go by, because he glanced self-consciously at Ty and opened his mouth.

  “We’ve got a lot to do,” Ty said, cutting off whatever Cary was going to say. He really didn’t want to hear any stumbling explanations about how it was all an unfortunate mistake or a onetime deal. They both knew how things went down. It was best to let them well enough alone.

  “Wait,” Cary said. “I still have to go back to the theater, to pick up my stuff. They’re probably looking for me after all that racket. And it should be safe for me to go home now, right? I mean, they’ve already gotten what they wanted.”

  “I reckon so,” Ty said, grabbing his leather jacket and the duffel bag. “Want me to give you a lift?”

  It would be quite a detour, as he was planning on paying a visit to a buddy of his who was based right in the heart of the Tenderloin and had some useful connections in the San Francisco underworld, but somehow, Cary’s grateful smile made it worth it. God, what was it with this guy? It was bad enough that he’d somehow gone into partnership with him, now he was going to run his errands, too? It hadn’t been a date. He didn’t even leave his phone number with most of his dates, preferring to keep things easy and uncomplicated. After all, his lifestyle didn’t exactly facilitate having a long-term relationship. He must have had a concussion after all.

  “Let’s meet back at the motel later,” he said once they were headed downstairs after Cary had had the chance to go through his own morning routine.

  Ty doubted Cary would actually show up. Once he had time to stop and think about it, he might very well decide he’d rather lose the amulet than take the risk of trying to retrieve it paired with a complete stranger whom he had no reason to trust. And Ty preferred to work alone, even if sometimes that proved less convenient. People, in his opinion, were utterly unreliable creatures. Case in point—AJ, with whom he’d worked for years, and who apparently had few qualms about selling him out at the first sign of trouble.

  Though, in all honesty, he probably wasn’t being fair to AJ. Facing down Tony Giordano was probably more than Ty could ask of anyone, least of all AJ (who had his redeeming qualities, but had never been a brave soul).
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br />   The Garland Magic Theater looked deserted when they arrived, but it was still early in the day. Cary hopped out and waved at him before heading for the back door. He looked good even in yesterday’s sweat-stained clothes, reminding Ty of a nimble but slightly battered alley cat.

  His bizarre hunch about this guy had better pan out, Ty thought as he watched Cary go inside the theater. He couldn’t afford much more bad luck. Not if he wanted to retrieve the amulet and complete the task set by AJ’s mystery client. That was something he’d kept from Cary, of course. It wasn’t like he could admit to wanting to get his fee for the amulet while promising to return it to Cary. The other reasons he’d stated for going after Giordano were all true, but there was no way Cary was getting it back like he’d made him think.

  Was it wrong of him to use Cary like that while planning on conning him all along? Yeah, but that was the way of life. Cary wasn’t some naive kid. He knew enough about how things worked in their line of business to watch out for himself. If he didn’t, really, it was his own fault. For all Ty knew, he had to watch out that Cary didn’t double-cross him in the process. Like Cary himself had said, there was no honor among thieves.

  Ty kept repeating it to himself as he drove away, but for some reason it didn’t make him feel better at all.

  IT WAS ALREADY dark when Ty heard a knock on the motel room door. He was faintly surprised to see Cary through the peephole, but there he was, standing in the hallway with a large bag slung over his shoulder.

  Ty opened the door, letting him in, and checked the dim hallway. It was deserted, with only muffled music coming from the floor below.

  “Hey,” Cary said, dropping his bag on the floor. He was wearing jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a worn dark denim jacket. All traces of his stage makeup and the gaudy costume were gone. It made him look less exotic and mysterious—just an ordinary guy in generic clothes—but also younger and more…vulnerable, even though there was nothing weak about him.

  “Hey,” Ty said.

  “Those fuckers completely trashed my place,” Cary said, bitterness lacing his voice. “They must have dropped by during the performance. They took all my props, my costumes, everything. With all that they broke, I’m gonna lose my deposit. What’s up with that?”

  “I guess they wanted to be thorough,” Ty said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t sleep there. Both my mattress and my couch are torn to shreds. Can I crash here? We’ll get an early start tomorrow.”

  From the haunted expression in Cary’s eyes, Ty gathered the lack of a sleeping arrangement wasn’t the only thing preventing Cary from staying in a home that had been broken into.

  “Sure,” he said. Staying together would be convenient while they were on the job, even if Ty wasn’t exactly used to having a roommate. And the possibility of them hooking up again did cross Ty’s mind, even though he wouldn’t be the one proposing it. He couldn’t deny the attraction, but perhaps it was better to keep things strictly professional.

  “Thanks.” Cary flashed him a dazzling smile, and Ty fought to suppress the sudden flash of arousal despite his virtuous intentions. “Any news?”

  “Actually, yes. Come take a look.”

  Ty had moved the small round table to the center of the room, and now it was piled with papers, notes, and empty coffee cups. A small tablet PC was perched precariously on the edge. Ty pulled up a second chair for him, and Cary sat, giving the papers a cursory glance. He then looked up at Ty in surprise, his dark eyes going wide.

  “Jesus. How did you get the blueprints for Giordano’s house?”

  Ty shrugged. He took one of the coffee cups, swirled the contents, frowned at them and downed them anyway, wincing at the stale taste.

  “Once I had a name to go with the face, it was easy to find out other things. These are probably grossly out-of-date,” he said, nodding at the blueprints, “but I only needed them to get a feel of the place. Cost me a nice chunk of change, but it was worth it. I also sneaked a peek at the house itself. Gotta give it to him, the guy does have top-notch security systems installed.”

  “Shocker,” Cary said. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Ty couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on the graceful lines of his limbs. “You can’t be serious about breaking into this place. Look at the size of it. There would be more security personnel guarding it than the Federal Reserve.”

  “That would be inconvenient.” Ty turned his attention back to the papers. “No, our best bet is to wait for him to be on the move. The amulet isn’t something you keep locked away in a safe. That would defeat its purpose. He’d carry it with him, at least when he means to use it. The ring, too. He definitely knows about magic and what it can do, and he’d be a fool not to wear it at all times.”

  “So we just ambush him when he leaves the house?” Cary asked dubiously, probably recalling the number of bodyguards and the bulletproof van. Their chances of success there seemed equally slim.

  “Too risky. Besides, he’d be prepared for something like that, and we’re no match for him when it comes to brute force. Certainly no match in the magic department if that sorceress of his tags along. No, we need to be smart, striking when he doesn’t expect it.” Ty leafed through the papers and fished out a few written notes. “I’ve had some people look into his habits for me. It seems our friend Tony is somewhat dissatisfied with the family business. With the way things are going for them recently, I’m not surprised. He’s looking to go into politics.”

  “Seems like the natural progression,” Cary said. “He wouldn’t be the first crook to rise to power in Washington, after all.”

  “It would explain why he’d want the amulet,” Ty said. “You of all people should know how powerful charisma can be when combined with the power of suggestion. That would definitely tip the scales in his favor come election time.”

  It all made perfect sense, really. The effect the amulet’s magic had on Cary’s audiences had been mesmerizing, and the poor guy hadn’t even been using it to its full potential. The thought of what it could do in the hands of someone bent on gaining popularity with the masses and guided by an experienced magic practitioner was more than a little disturbing.

  “But I have the feeling he’s going to use it much sooner,” Ty continued, going through his notes. “Besides politics, Tony is heavily into gambling. High stakes poker. The amulet could be useful in something like that. Make people believe your bluff.”

  “You think he’d bring it to a game?”

  “If it was important enough, sure,” Ty said. “He frequently attends friendly games with his, shall we call them, business associates from all over the country. That would definitely give him a leg up on them, wouldn’t it? Besides, it’d be a convenient way to test it without drawing too much attention. We know he has a sorceress helping him. There might be other practitioners he’s involved with, so we should be careful of those going in.”

  “Practitioners?”

  “A practitioner is anyone who uses magic. Even with only a basic knowledge, you can cast simple spells. Even I can do that, and I’m not very savvy, to be honest. Some people have a better natural aptitude for it than others, as with any talent. Now, a sorcerer is someone who has the inherent ability to handle magic, and more importantly, has spent a good deal of time learning their craft. You might have noticed it can be dangerous.”

  “What makes you think Giordano isn’t a practitioner himself?” Cary asked. “He sure knew what he was after.”

  Ty shook his head. “I can sense magic ability in other people, and he had none. The woman, now, was another matter.”

  The sorceress was unfamiliar to Ty, and she was strong, there was no question about it. They’d have to factor that in when they went after the amulet.

  “Are you a practitioner?” Cary asked.

  Ty looked up from his notes. The question stung, like it always did, but Cary was looking at him with genuine curiosity, not derision.

  “No. I don’t have th
e talent. I only work for those who do, or think they do. There is lots of demand. Collectors, scholars, sorcerers, amateur magicians, cultists. And I don’t deal with strictly magical stuff. People often hire me to find ancient or rare artifacts, books, jewels—that sort of thing. Stealing, if necessary,” he added, interpreting Cary’s expression correctly.

  “What about magical…things?” Cary asked. “I’m not a sorcerer, or whatever, and the amulet did work for me.”

  Cary wasn’t a sorcerer, but if Ty’s instincts were anything to go by, he had the potential to eventually become one. A powerful one. Ty could see magic in objects and other people much better than even some sorcerers. Again, he considered telling Cary about his magic capabilities, but decided against it for the time being. Cary was still too green, too scared, too rough around the edges to grasp the full meaning of this revelation. There was a reason beginner practitioners usually found a mentor to instruct them. As scattered as their little community was, people dabbling in magic came to the attention of others fairly quickly, and letting a potential sorcerer run rampant in the world of commons wasn’t something they were down with.

  No, he’d have to lead him to accept the idea gradually. Ty had neither the ability nor the inclination to mentor anyone in the craft. When Cary was ready, he’d have to find himself a proper teacher.

  “Most magical artifacts don’t have any power by themselves,” Ty said. “Pretty much anyone can handle them. They serve as a sort of focus for magical energy, designed to channel it for a specific purpose. You see, magical artifacts are basically just things in the beginning. But some people—and I’m talking about very powerful sorcerers—can imbue them with magical properties for whatever purpose they have in mind. Only then do they become magical.”

  “Okay,” Cary said slowly. Ty couldn’t fault him for being a little confused at this point. “So Giordano has a sorceress working for him to teach him how to handle magical energy, or whatever. What do we do?”